When, linnet-like, confined I When I shall voice aloud how good Th' enlarged winds that curl the flood, Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage, That for an hermitage: If I have freedom in my love, 108. Thomas Carew. 1589-1639. (Manual, pp. 180 and 87.) SONG. Ask me no more where Jove bestows, For in your beauties orient deep Ask me no more, whither do stray A.D. 1590-1645. WILLIAM BROWNE-WILLIAM HABINGTON. 125 109. William Browne. 1590-1645. (Manual, p. 180.) EVENING. As in an evening when the gentle air. I oft have sat on Thames' sweet bank to hear 110. William Habington. 1605-1654. (Manual, p. 180.) CUPIO DISSOLVI. My God! if 'tis thy great decree Wherein I breathe this air; My heart obeys, joy'd to retreat From the false favours of the great, And treachery of the fair. When thou shalt please this souí t'enthrone What should I grieve or fear, To think this breathless body must And ne'er again appear. For in the fire when ore is tried, And when thou shalt my soul refine, That it thereby may purer shine, Shall I grieve for the dross? 111. Edmund Waller. 1605-1687. (Manual, p. 181.) Go, lovely rose ! SONG. Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, In deserts, where no men abide, Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share ON A GIRDLE. That which her slender waist confin'd It was my heav'n's extremest sphere, A narrow compass! and yet there 112. Sir William Davenant. 1605-1668. (Manual, p. 182.) From Gondibert.' CHARACTER OF BIRTHA. To Astragon, heaven for succession gave One only pledge, and Birtha was her name; Whose mother slept, where flowers grew on her grave, She ne'er saw courts, yet courts could have undone She never had in busy cities been, Ne'er warm'd with hopes, nor e'er allay'd with fears; Not seeing punishment, could guess no sin; And sin not seeing, ne'er had use of tears. But here her father's precepts gave her skill, Her own free virtue silently employs, Whilst her great mistress, Nature, thus she tends, By secret law, each to her beauty bends; 113. Sir John Denham, 1615-1668. (Manual, p. 183.) From Cooper's Hill.' THE THAMES. My eye, descending from the Hill, surveys Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays. By his old sire, to his embraces runs, Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, Though with those streams he no resemblance hold, The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's toil; Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours; So that to us no thing, no place, is strange, O, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream Though deep yet clear, though gentle yet not dull; Abraham Cowley. 1618-1667. (Manual, p. 184.) 114. HYMN TO LIGHT. Hail! active Nature's watchful life and health! Her joy, her ornament, and wealth! Hail to thy husband, Heat, and thee! Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty bridegroom he! Say, from what golden quivers of the sky Do all thy winged arrows fly? Swiftness and Power by birth are thine ; From thy great Sire they come, thy Sire, the Word Divine. Thou in the moon's bright chariot, proud and gay, Dost thy bright wood of stars survey, |